Unraveled
by Rioyoki
Summary: Pan a young and highly acclaimed thriller/horror novelist is somehow connected to the murder of two twenty some year old young men who died in her own company. Detective Hran T. Foxworth begins to travel down the twisted road of her psyche...


kill them. kiss them all

your tenderness will suggest nothing but a form of affections.  
>sweet emotion overtaking your senses in this horrible realization of agony and loss...<p>

But did you kill them?

You could hear screams that sounded as these two men would with their dreary lasts breaths gasping from their soon to be

rotting lips. You would have the last laugh. Isn't that right?

the detective walked cautiously but with purpose at the same time and took long strides back and forth in front of the

table where she sat.

he could feel her eyes watching his every movement gesture, the space between his strides. He felt slightly as a smaller

prey would feel being pursued by their predator; though at the same time she held a gentle demure composure. Too sure of

herself to show any weakness.

his job as he knew would be to discover is she was a very good liar; some sociopathic/narrcisitic with a certain fondness

for danger and and nihilism.

"I'm detective T. Hran Fowtorth. I understand you to be a misses J. Pan Wlesh..."

he then sighed as he looked through the next few pages of my so called 'report'.  
>he even mustered up an inquisitive look as he scanned the pages but no matter I know he was scanning them for my benefit.<p>

Seemingly he gave a slight smile of grief meant as a supportive gesture I knew.

"So I see you've been divorced just recently Hran." I took out a fag and lit it without any eye contact. Directing my gaze

out the window pondering the skyscrapers and if he ever dreamed of just throwing himself off one of them one of these

lonely late nights at the office...

she was a coy little minx. This in the very least was evident.

"It's Mr. Fotrworth Miss Wlesh."

She gave me an intense gaze and studied my face before giving a sly smile.

She was playing with me and I knew that. She enjoyed the game of playing the villian; then stood the question- was she

indeed the one behind all of this.

"How did you know I'd recently gotten a divorce?"  
>She didn't look at me, I had forgotten to tell her as well to put out that damned cigarette.<p>

"You can still see the band mark on your left hand." She said without a nod so much in my direction.

"Miss Wlesh we are here to talk about you and your possible involvement in the murder of those two boys."

"Mmmm..."  
>"Mr. Fortworth was it? Were you happy?...in you your marriage of yours I mean...? Did she satisfy you? Did the thrill never<p>

fade?"...  
>She chuckled a bit.<br>"Or did you get tired of it and look elsewhere leaving her to pick up the pieces..."

I was getting angry, how dare this woman make accusations about my life. What would this almost murderer know anything about

me.

"I a a writer, I assume you know that so reading characters has always been a habit of mine; but I can see through you more

clearly then most. I wonder why that is? Like you're begging to be found out..."

She paused for a moment caught in thought and I myself preferred to keep an ominous silence disregarding any of her

accusations without so much as to dignify them with response.

"No No No..." She continued" Indeed, I think she left you..." She smiled deeper knowing she hit the nail on the head.

"Always putting her in second place, she didn't crave you like she had before and before you knew it she was getting just

what she needed from another man...Even...Perhaps a close friend?"

That was it! I flung her chart and screamed that she immediately leave my office. That was enough of her mouth; enough of

her miscontrued truths. She wrote novels; would she go as far to inspect my own character so deeply. She indeed was a

narcissisist using others as pawns in her own story. Is this where she would get her own stories from. Concocting lies from

truths and bending them to the most suitable and gut wrenching scenarios.

She was a card at that. Confident, in control and even calm and consice with every word she spoken. Leaving nothing to

place her in any position to be convicted guilty. She had tried to save them, but I could shake the notion of her last

novel. Where she wrote a character much like herself having a threesome before crashing off a bridge at 120mph, almost

drowning in ecstasy. But jut like in the book she is the only one to survive. Is she a danger to society, herself? Or are

all these things a coincidence.

Somehow, somehow i didn't want to never treat her again. The way she gazed in m eyes like she read every though and wrinkle

like they were maps to my past. She looked beneath the blue in my eyes and saw things that enraged me because they were

true but I had been the one who had the upper hand and higher understanding. How could she so easily pinpoint my flaws as

though they were flashing bright across my forehead. How could I ever council her? is there was no way for me to act

ambivalent during our session.

Before for she left the office she turned back from the door hitching down her skirt and smiled pleased with herself; "If

you have any further questions Hran you can contact my lawyer, I've left his name and number up front. Though I feel as

though we'll meet again... soon", she winked "Hopefully on better terms that is." She held her smile as she turned on her

heel and strut out my office.

She was confident, bold; too full of herself?" Perhaps...


End file.
